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A pot of milk slowly warming on the stove

Soft music by Sinatra from the radio

My warm cup of cocoa and fresh baked cookies

I treat myself lovingly in the solace of tranquility

Wrapped in my warm quilt blankets

 

Paolo Driussi.

 IN THE BADLY LIT BAR

In the badly lit bar

There’s a young man,

His back to the jukebox

Swaying to the sounds

Of the Rolling Stones

“The play is run, my love

Your time has come, my love”

He sings along

With great passion

As pool cues strike

Billiard balls

And beer gushes

Into chilled glasses

As the song ends

He walks back

To his seat alone.

In the badly lit bar.

Paolo Driussi.

 SMILE

Smile

Keep grinning

Despite feeling

Less than a fraction of joy.

Smile

Keep searching, intently,

For some sort of distraction.

Crawl into bed.

Stare at the ceiling and then.

Finally be consumed

By the dissatisfaction of

Feeling nothing.

Paolo Driussi

 SILENT IS THE RAIN

The moon rises over the horizon

The night is setting its long shadow

We close our eyes to bathe in its essence.

Paolo Driussi

RAIN 

You asked if id dance in the rain with you

I did.

I took a video 

Because my selfish heart 

Couldn’t let this moment

Be seen by just my eyes.

The rain let up.

We found the road.

I held your arm as I looked at the sky.

It was a grey black that was so surreal,

If not for the cold drops falling on my face.

Paolo Driussi

 

The slice of apple we shared

Your voice when you haven’t spoken in a while
Your hands on my hands

The slice of apple we shared,
Mouths yearning the same glistening thing
And the finger you used to trace my shoulders

Two slanting arrows pointing to the heart.

Paolo Driussi

 November’s falling leaves.

It’s charming to watch you step gingerly,

To avoid the leaves.

That crackle below your feet as you proceed.

Delightfully, you turn to smile back at me

As if to imply foolishness, but with glee,

In the vibrancy of November’s falling leaves.

Paolo Driussi

 Into The Cold Black Night

The fire warmth stays in the room,

And the burnt coal goes up the chimney,

Into the cold, black night.

No light in the living room,

Just, the fire in the fireplace

With it’s heat flowing to me

Keeping me warm this dark, autumn night.

Paolo Driussi

 Shorter Days

Gold fish swimming in the pond.                                                                                   

Shorter days and a pleasant chill, 

The lingering aromas’ of autumn

Glide through the air.

Paolo Driussi

 Venezia 2004 

L’elettricità nella spazzola, nelle mani, in un pacchetto di sigarette

fumato in poche ore, nelle pagine spiegazzate di un quotidiano. I capelli.

Non riuscivo a dargli un verso. L’e-mail se ne stava lì, muta, nel rifugio

del mio computer.